


If I Could Write You a Love Song

by anerdandanofficer



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn, music fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdandanofficer/pseuds/anerdandanofficer
Summary: Tessa emails Mariah the link to a new song. I love these lyrics, she writes (the 15th time she has re-written the one sentence email) and quickly hits send before she can change her mind again. The song sings of lusting after a beautiful woman, with hair like fire, and a personality to match. It’s towing the line. Sometimes Tessa feels like she wants to yank Mariah over the line and make her confess. Just say it, she wants to yell, admit how you feel about me, this unsaid thing that’s between us, this static when your leg touches mine on the couch, the way you swallow nervously when I get too close. But it goes unsaid by their own tongues, whispered only through the words of another, sung softly in indie ballads, crooned in 20’s tunes, carried on the notes of a trumpet solo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been playing around with this google docs for a while, uncertain about writing a fic for these two when I don't know how well I know their characters yet. But I kept adding bits and pieces, cute ideas, until suddenly a fic was forming. 
> 
> I wanted to explore these two through their connection to music, for a more Tessa POV (though in third person). 
> 
> I hope it isn't awful! 
> 
> More to come, this is part 1.

_..._

 

Music has always been a common string between them, interwoven with their connection. Mariah was her number one fan, from the first time that she heard her sing. Those eyes watching her from the crowd, mesmerised, in a way that lit a fire in Tessa - as she belted out her lyrics with a new found strength to her tenor. Followed by Mariah’s gaze, she felt emboldened, empowered, fierce.

 

Mariah gets it, for a non-musician. Understands the way that Tessa relates through music. Mariah says she has always wished she had some _ounce_ of musical talent, because she _feels_ music when she listens to it, loves the way that it pulls at her heartstrings, twists her stomach and aches in her chest. They talk with passion about the music they love, and the way that it makes them feel, and Mariah listens enraptured to hear Tessa wax poetic over covering her favourite songs, the feeling of writing a new song, the surging adrenalin of performing.

 

And naturally this progresses. Step by step. Inch by inch. Music and melody weaving through their friendship.

 

-

 

Mariah is sitting on the couch as Tessa comes in one day, earphones in, and music up loud enough that she doesn’t notice the new presence in the room until Tessa comes into her line of vision and she jumps a little. Tessa lets out a loud laugh, as Mariah pulls one earbud out and puts her hand over her chest dramatically.

 

“Geez, Tessa,” she moans, but can’t help smiling up at her as Tessa comes to stand in front of her. The raven haired woman smirks, dark lips curling up slightly more on her right side and dimpling her cheek.

 

“Watcha’ listening to?” she asks, taking the ipod out of Mariah’s hands before she can answer, “J _ust To Be With You, Jim Wolf_ ,” she reads out loud, “Huh, I didn’t know you liked this song? Actually, I didn’t know you _knew_ this song.” she ponders curiously as she looks back up, and sees Mariah’s cheeks stain soft pink.

 

“I heard you play it one time and I liked it,” she replies casually, but wont look Tessa in the eye as she says this, suddenly very interested in picking at the loose threads of a cushion beside her. When she does look up again, Tessa has her face scrunched adorably in concentration. Mariah let’s out a soft laugh.

 

“Not long after we first met, you were playing in Chancellor park?” she fills in the blanks, raking a hand through soft waves of red hair.  
  
“Oh, right!” Tessa grins, bending her knees slightly to bump them against Mariah’s where they hang over the edge of the lounge, “you were wearing that green shirt.” She gives an approving nod and she hands the ipod back, let’s her finger tips graze Mariah’s palm a little more than necessary as she does so, can’t help herself. It’s that electricity, when they touch, that rush that before this only music had given her. And it’s so inexplicable - that pull - that she fights it even harder the more than she feels it.

 

After this however, she begins recommending Mariah music. It starts with texting her the name of a song, without explanation. She waits hesitantly, not sure whether to bring it up. But then she comes over to the house one day, and she can hear the song playing from Mariah’s bedroom on repeat. Sometimes she sends her links to youtube videos, and sometimes Mariah sends them back. Tessa doesn’t read into the titles and lyrics, the back and forth of escalating feelings woven into the tracks each recommends the other. But she loves everything that Mariah sends her, even the slightly weird songs, the dark songs, the obscure artists - perhaps some only _because_ Mariah is the one who has sent it to her.

 

-

 

The room had been silent, the faint sounds of San Francisco in the background, but inside that hotel room was quiet - interrupted only by the fast thrumming sound of Tessa’s pulse in her ears when their eyes locked. But charged gazes were hardly new, Tessa was used to biting her lip, ignoring the heat in the pit of her stomach when Mariah looked at her like _that_ . With admiration, adoration, with warmth, and with fire, with curiosity, with a lust that makes Tessa somewhat breathless. What took her by surprise was the soft touch of warm fingers against her face, the redhead’s palm cupping her cheek. The way Mariah had leant in, so slowly but purposefully, her eyes silently saying _if you don’t want to kiss me, you can you can pull away now_. That’s what she should have done, ended it there before it had even begun. But she was mesmerised, she was sure looking at Mariah that same way that Mariah looked at her when she sung.

 

Before she knew it, Mariah’s lips were ghosting hers, teasing her with an almost kiss, and Tessa had never felt that kind of want, pushing back in to meet Mariah’s lips half way as she leant in again, and what felt like _finally,_ actually kissed her.

 

It wasn’t like any other kiss she’d had before. It was a piece of music. It had a melody all of its own, an earworm that would play inside her head for weeks to come, on a loop. And no matter how hard she tried, she could never find the words to fit it.

 

-

 

Tessa sometimes listens to that norwegian punk band and wonders what could have happened, had they still gone together, had Mariah not panicked and ran into Devon’s arms.

 

She imagines Mariah shooting her a shy smile halfway through the set list. Mariah laughing, rocking out. That ferocious mass of red curls, catching the stage lights as they bounced around Mariah’s shoulders. She imagine’s the heat, and the dimly lit theatre, the cacophony of sound, the atmosphere crackling with possibility. Imagine’s casually finding Mariah’s warm, sweaty palm in the crowd and threading their fingers. Her heart races, and she opens her eyes and changes her playlist quickly.

 

What good would that have done? What happens from there? She can’t think that far, can’t picture the aftermath, but neither can she stop thinking about what could have happened.

 

-

 

Some new band that Tessa likes is playing over the stereo. Faith and Sharon are out of the house, so they can turn the volume up loud. Since Tessa moved in, this is kind of a Sunday routine.

 

Mariah is reading a book, except that she isn’t really reading it anymore, just holding it in front of her face, staring at the page without taking in a word. Her mind is lost in the lyrics of this song. She doesn’t realise she is humming along, until she feels cool fingers brush over her free hand where it rests on the couch. She looks up at Tessa, as she threads their fingers together, and begins tapping out the rhythm against the back of Mariah’s hand with her thumb. She isn’t looking back at the redhead, her eyes are closed, sitting beside her on the lounge with her head leant back into the cushions. The songs fades out softly, and in the lull between tracks Tessa suddenly speaks.

 

“I don’t know, sometimes I kind of feel like…  we’re kindred spirits,” she pauses, cracks one eye open to squint at her friend, “Is that weird?” Under Tessa’s gaze, Mariah stutters for a moment.

 

“No,” she manages to huff out, and Tessa grins, lets her eyelid fall closed again.

 

“I just mean… I don’t know, you get it. You… get _me_. You know?”

 

There isn’t time to reply before the next song begins, and fills the living room with a charged, piano heavy track that makes Tessa’s stomach squirm.

 

-

 

“Any good stake out music on your ipod?” Mariah asks, picking up the chunky device from the compartment beneath Tessa’s car stereo. It catches the passing street lights that flicker momentarily through the windscreen. Tessa is tense beside her, concentrated. No joking around, no flirting lines. This Tessa is all protective sister mode, with blinders on to anything else. All Mariah can do is watch her back and hope for the best, stomach churning with worry.

 

On the drive home, when Tessa finally calms enough to take a breath, Mariah picks the ipod backup. Tessa softens slightly as she hears the soft melody filter through the speakers, the song that her and Crystal used to listen to when they were younger, the only record her parents ever owned (later pawned, of course, along with the record player but by then Tessa knew it by heart, and could sing it almost as well as the original).

 

She offers a soft smile across the car to Mariah in the dark, a smile that says thank you. For remembering, for knowing exactly what to do, to ground her momentarily, to reminder her.

 

She sings along as she drives, the words roll off her tongue without a second thought. And on the chorus she hears Mariah join in, quietly, and somewhat out of tune in the most endearing way. She’s never heard Mariah sing before, is sure she probably won't again, but it brings a comfort she never knew she needed, for Mariah to be that vulnerable in front of her and only her.

 

-

 

Sometimes Tessa finds it hard to resist flirting with Mariah, making her squirm. Letting her eyes rake up Mariah’s body as she asks for her opinion on an outfit, in a very pointed way. Flat out complimenting her without apology, “you look _hot._ ” Mucking around when they do the dishes together to cheesy music, and grabbing Mariah with a wet, soapy hand, pulling her in close to dance with her, giggles fading out for a moment when Mariah realises how close they are, feels Tessa’s damp hand on her small of her waist.

 

Tessa emails Mariah the link to a new song. _I love these lyrics_ , she writes (the 15th time she has re-written the one sentence email) and quickly hits send before she can change her mind again. The song sings of lusting after a beautiful woman, with hair like fire, and a personality to match. It’s towing the line. Sometimes Tessa feels like she wants to yank Mariah over the line and make her confess. _Just say it_ , she wants to yell, _admit how you feel about me, this unsaid thing that’s between us, this static when your leg touches mine on the couch, the way you swallow nervously when I get too close_. But it goes unsaid by their own tongues, whispered only through the words of another, sung softly in indie ballads, crooned in 20’s tunes, carried on the notes of a trumpet solo.

 

-

 

The first night at Noah’s she can’t sleep. She lies awake for what feels like hours, before she gets up, bare feet cold on the floor as she tip toes into the living room. She finds her ipod in her handbag, puts on the last song that Mariah sent her, and sits on the couch with the track on repeat until she finally begins to feel drowsy, soothed by gentle, rhythmic melody, the voice that sings almost like a whisper;

 

 _If this was meant for me why does it hurt so much_ _  
_ _And if you’re not made for me then why did we fall in love_

 

She thinks about running her fingers through auburn waves, brushing an errant strand away from Mariah’s crimson cheeks, her thumb caressing softly over her cheekbones slower than necessary, enough to elicit a small hiccup, a shallow intake of breath.

 

She thinks of the sounds of San Francisco. Thinks of quiet. Of her racing pulse. Thinks of a melody without words that wont leave her alone.

 

-

 

Noah leans over her shoulder, taking her by surprise, too fast for her to minimize the window.

 

“You guys make each other playlists?” he laughs, teasingly, planting a kiss on her cheek. His hands are warm and firm on her shoulders. It speaks of exactly what he is to her, sweet and stable, the safe option, the easy choice. Noah who kisses her on the cheek, Noah who opens the door for her, Noah who is an open book.

 

She rolls her eyes at him, and switches back to her easy listening playlist before he can begin to scan the tracklist names.

 

“Yes, we do. Mariah actually has decent taste in music, something that is obviously _not_ genetic,”she teases him.

 

“I like _your_ music, don’t I?” she gives him a noncommittal shrug at this, but then he continues enthusiastically, ”hey, we should do that you know. Make each other playlists.”

 

She doesn’t say no, but she doesn’t say yes, and hopes he forgets. This is hers and Mariah’s thing. Not anyone else's. She feels the touch of jealousy in him, it’s written in the small frown that crosses his face before he changes the subject, on to dinner for the night.

 

“So what are you making us, a roast? Spaghetti? Maybe homemade pizzas?”

 

“Hmmm... chinese take out.”

 

“ _Again_?”

 

-

 

The thing is that Tessa can tell Mariah is scared. And she gets it, because it is messy and complicated, and god knows this was hardly Tessa’s plan, kind of the opposite.  She doesn’t know how it happened. From the moment they met, she knew they had this connection unlike anything she had with anybody else before. Things felt so easy with Mariah at the beginning, they fell into a friendship that quickly felt like they had been friends for years. Mariah felt like someone she could trust, an odd feeling for someone who was used to never trusting anyone. She felt like someone Tessa could rely on, when she wasn’t used to needing anyone. And there was a spark from day one, but it grew far faster than Tessa realised, this tension between them. She could have lived with electricity in their touch, could have gone on being Mariah’s friends, knowing that is all that it would be, never thinking that Mariah would be the one to step up and kiss her it was easy to let things go on as they were, for now, to both pretend to ignore their less than subtle flirting, the blurred lines, the longer than necessary hugs (from a girl who didn’t used to hug at all). But the kiss changed everything, brought it all to the surface, so that now it can’t be ignored.

 

The problem is that Mariah is hard to read. One moment she is pulling Tessa closer, asking her not to leave, the next she is telling her there is nothing to talk about. They keep dancing around the subject and having cryptic conversations, where half the time Tessa isn’t even sure that they both know what the other is saying.

 

So she chooses Noah. She chooses Noah, because she has to choose Noah. _For everyone's sake. For Mariah’s sake,_ she tells herself _,_ as well as her own and Crystals. _This is better. This is safer. This is the way it needs to be._

 

So when Mariah comes to her after Halloween, finally ready to come clean, to be honest about everything and lay it all on the table - the problem is that it is too late.

 

And it should be clean cut. When Mariah pulls away from her, she should let her. That would be the selfless thing to do. But she can’t. Mariah is everything. She misses their random texts at all times of day, misses their movies nights, their debriefs over coffee. Her ipod now feelings like a field of landmines, every second song is either something Mariah sent her or something that makes her think of Mariah.

 

“Sappy love songs aren’t really my thing” she remembers telling Mariah and Sharon adamantly, true at the time maybe, but now a blatant lie, because now her notebook is filled with them, half written sappy love songs, about _Mariah_.

 

But she can’t finish any of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa has never had trouble writing before. Songs come to her all the time, some worse than others of course, but she has never felt so blocked as she does right now. Ever since October.
> 
> And of course now Devon wants a new song, and wants one fast.
> 
> She feels so frustrated, because she knows what she needs, she knows what is missing. It’s Mariah. Mariah was her muse, gave her the passion to drive her forward. Mariah’s smile alone can inspire a thousand ballads, those eyes an indie rock anthem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the point where things start to diverge from the canon, which wasn't actually the original plan, but once i started writing it just felt right. 
> 
> Although what was going to be a one shot now appears to be at least three chapters.... whoops. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read :)  
> \---

It seemed like a clever idea, until she went to give it to Mariah, and then it suddenly seemed cheesy. A USB shaped like an old cassette tape. She’d written ‘mariah’s mix’ in black marker on the front. Now she fiddles with it in the pocket of her handbag, and contemplates not giving it to Mariah at all.

 

When she gets to the redhead’s desk, Mariah is nowhere to be seen. Most likely running errands for Hillary. She takes a breath and places the USB in front of her keyboard, then turns and leaves the office before the can chicken out and take it back.

 

She half expects a text, a call, an email - some acknowledgement that Mariah has received it, but she is also not all that surprised when all she gets is silence.

 

It’s January when Sharon invites her to her party. Mariah is hostile and cold, all snappy remarks, and it hurts so much because Tessa didn’t realise just how much she needed Mariah until she didn’t have her. She excuses herself to the bathroom, jogs up the stairs without thinking, old habits. She pauses as she passes Mariah’s room, hand coming up to rest against the familiar wooden door, slightly ajar. It swings open under her touch. The room is just the same, curtains semi drawn, dim light filtering in. Not messy like Tessa’s room always was. It has always felt cosy, for some inexplicable reason. Mariah is hardly one to fill her bedroom with cute knick knacks and old photos, but it feels like Mariah. It smells like Mariah.

 

She remembers late night chats on Mariah’s bed, that subconscious thought of how close she should sit. But somehow she ended up sitting across the end of the bed, legs dangling over the edge, back against the plaster wall, Mariah’s head resting in her lap, running her fingers through Mariah’s hair. She didn’t think about it at the time, but later, reflecting back, is taken by how close Mariah always let her get, how vulnerable she let herself be in front of Tessa, for a girl who was so used to being hard and closed off and protecting herself.

 

She takes a tentative step inside, runs her hands over the spines of the books on the shelf, eyes travelling over the desk, when she spots the USB beside the monitor. Dust motes, disturbed by her entrance, float through the shards of light that creep through gaps in the curtains. Her sneakers squeak as she takes another step, and she flinches, but takes another, reaching the desk and picking the USB up. She wonders if Mariah has played it, or if it just sits there collecting dust, the redhead stubbornly refusing to make a decision either way, to throw it out would be too definitive. As she puts it back Tessa bumps the mouse, pulls the desktop from its slumber, and soft blue light fills the room as the screen turns on.

 

Mariah’s itunes is open, the current song paused on 0:42. Track 9 in the mix that Tessa made her, which has it’s only playlist, cryptically titled ‘MM’.

 

She hears footsteps on the stairs, quickly retreats and stumbles into the bathroom, to splash cold water on her face before she goes back downstairs, back into the tension filled room. Hostilities are still flying, and Hillary is doing a terrible job as peacemaker, and Mariah is focused on the conflict with Sharon and almost every other woman in the room, refusing to look Tessa’s way as she resumes her awkward spot by the snacks table. But she feels just a little lighter for having known Mariah is listening to her mix.

 

She knows the track list off by heart, thinks of every song she carefully selected, everything she wanted to say with each lyric (all the things she doesn’t even realise she is confessing). Now she thinks of Mariah, alone in her room at night, Better by SYML playing through her earphones, hopes she gazes out the window and thinks about Tessa as she listens.

 

-

 

Tessa has never had trouble writing before. Songs come to her all the time, some worse than others of course, but she has never felt so blocked as she does right now. Ever since October.

 

And of course now Devon wants a new song, and wants one fast.

 

She feels so frustrated, because she knows what she needs, she knows what is missing. It’s Mariah. Mariah was her muse, gave her the passion to drive her forward. Mariah’s smile alone can inspire a thousand ballads, those eyes an indie rock anthem.

 

She stares at the words on the paper in front of her and groans.

 

Maybe she is over thinking things, trying too hard to make a hit as opposed to a song. But everything leading up to this point is hinged on this moment, it’s make or break. And she pushed aside the best thing in her life for her career, so it had better be fucking worth it.

 

She tries again, a fresh sheet of paper, posies her pen as though the real issue was not being _ready_ to write. She stares at the notepad and wills the words to come, glances around the cafe, out at the street, trying to find something to inspire her.

 

 _Genoa City, real and gritty_ _  
_ _Where everyone is as conniving as they are pretty_

 

“Please let no-one ever know that I thought that, let alone wrote it down,” she mutters to herself and screws the page up tightly in her palm. The paper crunches and she lets it drop onto the table with the others.

 

“Hey” the voice catches her by surprise, and there is Mariah, almost like a sign. Not like the Mariah from Sharon’s party, maybe all that talk of forgiveness wore more on her than Tessa thought. Within a minute there is her friend again, supportive Mariah, sweet Mariah, who knows her better than anyone else. Mariah who knows exactly what to say, can make her laugh at something that isn’t all that funny.

 

Even when Mariah is trying to pull back, her sincerity leaks through. She tilts her head in that way she always does when she is giving Tessa a pep talk, sunlight catching in her auburn waves like flames flickering, the way the light changes the rich colours of her hair.

 

Tessa wants so bad not to mess this up again. The thing is that as hard as she tries to just be friends with Mariah, to carefully manage the things that she says, she can’t help it. What is it about Mariah that melts her in an instant, that breaks down her walls with a look, and suddenly Tessa is staring back at her with her heart on her sleeve, despite the fact that her words are saying something else. “I’m with Noah” “I choose Noah” “You are such an important friend to me”. Those are the words she keeps forcing out of her mouth, even though her eyes are saying, _you mean so much more to me that anyone else does. I’m with Noah, but my heart is with you. I am falling for you so hard_ . _I would kiss you again in an instant._

 

Before she knows it, she has done it again. Praising Mariah’s latest segment derives into just plain praising Mariah. It’s just so easy to do.

 

“And you looked amazing doing it,” she confesses. The way that Mariah looks at her when she says it makes her knees feel weak, but before she knows it the redhead is rambling nervously, somewhat adorably, and making an exit.

 

“By the time she left, I was picturing her naked. Epic fail Tessa,” Tessa groans under her breath.

 

But as she watches her go, she knows what she needs to do.

 

-

 

The brown leather journal that she keeps in a shoebox in the back of the closet is filled with unfinished lyrics, half written songs, ambling bits of prose - all of them about one person. This is where all her thoughts go, all the feelings that she can’t say out loud, all the things that there is no perfect song to express.

 

She can’t write this in Noah’s flat, or Crimson Lights. Instead she locks herself up in an office at HWG with her guitar and a keyboard.

 

At first she is at a loss as to where to start. There are pages of lyrics to choose from. She is flicking through them when she realises she is humming. It’s that same melody that got caught in her head that day in San Francisco. Mariah’s lips were on hers, and suddenly there was this hook in her head that wouldn’t go away. She bites her lip, places her fingers delicately on the keys of the keyboard, and her hands begin to play, and soon the hook expands into a melody, the melody into a piece of music, and once she has that, a musical representation of that moment, she starts to piece together the words.

_That’s what I should have done,_

_Ended it there, before it had even begun._

_But I was mesmerised, looking at you that same way you watched me every time I sung_

 

She sings the words softly as she plays, then turns back to scribble onto the page. It is one of those rare and perfect moments when everything just clicks. She doesn’t know how long she is in there, but when the door creaks open and Devon peers in around the wooden frame, she blinks at him looking bewildered, somewhat dazed at the intrusion.

 

“How’s it going in here?” he asks, smiling as he sees Tessa in her natural habitat, and at home it seems again, papers strewn around her, headphones around her neck as she chews on the end of her pen.

 

“Uhh good, actually,” she nods enthusiastically, “I think it’s almost done.”

 

-

 

She doesn’t actually think about it until Devon is sitting there in front of her, and her stomach drops nervously when she realises. She loves her song, loves everything about, and she knows that it has the potential to be a great hit for the company and for herself, but as she sits in front of him she can suddenly see just how transparent it is.

 

She may as well hold up a giant sign that says she has feelings for Mariah Copeland, because whilst she is usually the queen of eloquently subtle lyrics, there is _no_ mistaking what these mean. These words are literally a culmination of every thought and feelings she has had about Mariah that she knows she can’t say out loud to anyone else, ever rumination on their kiss, all the things she has tried to push down and suppress and ignore.

 

Her voice shakes just slightly on the opening line, but she steeles herself, and closes her eyes, and belts out every syllable as thought Mariah is the one there in front of her.

 

When she opens them again, Devon is watching her, silently, with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Say something,” she begs him nervously, fiddling with the cord of her earphones. He blinks, and finally smiles, if a little confused and thoughtful.

 

“Wow, Tessa, that was… unexpected, but, amazing. Really, really great. That is a hit right there.” He leaves it at that for now, but she knows he will ask later, once he has had a moment to process through the lyrics properly. For now he starts babbling about how quickly they can get her in studio, they should start building some hype, organising advertising. It’s all a whirlwind, and as he continues she feels the excitement rushing back again, and for now that is enough to focus on.

 

-

 

It’s when she starts telling Noah that she is going in to record tomorrow with Devon that she realises, she is going to have some explaining to do. But how does she approach it. She could try to deny any connection between the song and Mariah, say the song is just a fabrication, a made up idea, not based on any truths. But even Noah, who could be slower on the uptake sometimes, not as good at reading her as Mariah was, would see through that. No, there was no way of avoiding it, it was just a matter of when. But she reasoned she had some time.

 

“What song is it, have I heard any of it yet?” She shakes her head.

 

“A new one.”

 

A beat, and then he raises his eyebrows imploringly and laughs.

 

“So, are you going to play it for me?” he asks, leaning his elbows against the breakfast bar counter. She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment, moving her cereal around in her bowl pointlessly, tracing figure eights through the food with her spoon.

 

“It’s not, quite, finished yet, not properly.” She has some time, to work out exactly how to break it to him. Just not now. Not when it hasn’t even been recorded yet.

 

-

 

She reasoned wrong, as it turned out, because it was only two days later that Devon broke the news to her. She had barely stepped foot in his office when he announced, “Okay, we had better get going,” glancing at his watch as he held open the door for her. Tessa frowned.

 

“Going where?” she asked as they walked out.

 

“GC Buzz, I managed to get you on the show today, but I forgot Hilary wanted you there early for some prep.” Tessa stopped mid step and blinked, wide eyed and stammering. She argued against it, meekly, tried to reason that it was too early, but he countered (quite rationally) that it was the perfect time. They needed to keep the momentum going, the song wouldn’t be ready to stream for another few weeks, what better way to ramp up some buzz than a one off performance on the Hillary Hour? In the end she has to nod, swallow down her personal qualms and be a professional.

 

That’s how she found herself at GC Buzz, wringing her hands nervously, too anxious to even quip at Hillary as she made some obnoxious comment. And the moment that Mariah entered the room, she felt her mouth go dry.

 

Oh, there was that too.

 

There was Noah. Noah probably listening live at home. Noah about to hear her song for the first time, before she had time to explain.

 

And there was Mariah. Mariah who she was going to have to sing the song in front of.

 

She tried to swallow, licked her dry lips and took a breath. What had she gotten herself into. How was one song about to cause the entire life she had slowly built for herself in Genoa City to implode.

 

“Introducing what?” the redhead asked for a second time, looking unimpressed.

 

“Tessa’s newest song, hot off the presses,” Devon replied, eyeing his singer as he noted her shift in mood. 

 

Hillary instructs Mariah to take the pre-interview, and she acquiesces, indicating for Tessa to take a seat. She is being cordial, just shy of friendly, in a way that pains Tessa to be on the receiving end of. She opens up a new note on her ipad, and looks across the table.

 

“So, what is the song called?” she asks. Tessa licks her lips again, nervous habit, clasps her handbag tighter in her lap.

 

“It’s called, If I Could Write You a Love Song.” Mariah blinks and glances up. For a moment her eyes are an open book, curiosity, a touch of hurt. Then they are closed off again, steeles her face into a neutral expression.

 

“I didn’t think you wrote love songs.” Her tone is clipped. Tessa bites her lip, to try to stop herself from smiling. It’s almost sweet, the naive way that Mariah assumes it is about Noah. She watches the other woman with soft eyes. She wants to say, but with you as inspiration, who could not.

 

“Neither did I,” she breathes out softly instead. Mariah nods, brow slightly creased, jaw tense as she makes a note.

 

“What was the inspiration?” she asks as if she would rather not be asking, but knows that it’s the obvious next question. That is exactly what Hillary will want to know. Tessa flails for a moment, to stop herself from spilling “you” out of her mouth. She chews on it, perhaps for a moment longer than you would if the answer was simply, “my boyfriend”, which seems to peek Mariah’s interest.

 

“Being unable to deny your feelings,” she finally says. Far too true, but there is not much point holding back now. Mariah’s cheeks flush under her intense gaze, crimson colouring her face in a way that makes her only look even more beautiful.

 

“Tessa, we need to get you set up” Hillary calls her impatiently. She gladly slides off the stool, throwing one quick glance back at the blushing redhead who is suddenly now very focused on her ipad, before she crosses to the other side of the studio.

 

-

 

Tessa drags her damp palms across the legs of her jeans, sitting at her keyboard. She can feel Mariah’s gaze, constantly coming back to her, even when it shouldn’t.

 

“So, without further ado, live on our stage with the exclusive world premiere of her new song, If I Could Write You a Love Song, Miss Tessa Porter.”

 

Tessa swallows as Hillary gives her introduction, and the lights come up. She watches for the red light on the camera, and tries to remember to take a breath, fingers poised on the keyboard. She hits the first note, and soon her fingers are dancing across the keys, the soft start that builds into the melody.  

 

 _Its sharp quips_ _  
_ _From those soft lips  
__That leave me breathless once again_

 

 _It those those hazel eyes_  
_Have me mesmerized_  
_Make it so hard to pretend_

 

She keeps her eyes on the keys, watches her fingers move across with the practiced patience and precision, concentrates on keeping her breathing even, though her heart is racing in her chest.

 

 _It’s electricity when we touch,  
_ _That ephemeral rush_

 _Your inexplicable pull_ _  
_ _That makes me want to run away_  

 _It’s a chemistry that can be fought_ _  
_ _An understanding that can’t be taught_

 _Our untenable connection  
_ _That seems to grow stronger each day_

 

She can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, feel Mariah’s gaze watching her - this time different from that soft look of adoration when she usually performs, far more intense as she listens to each line, analyses every lyrics. 

 

 _We blur the lines_  
_But daren’t cross them_  
_Leave everything unsaid_  
  
_But a thousand times_  
_I have confessed to you_ _  
In the lyrics of a ballad_  

 _And you are the strings beneath my fingers_  
_You are the tremor in my voice_ _  
I need you to know  
__That you are not my second choice_

 

She takes a shallow breath, begs her voice not to waver, begs her eyes not to look up.

 _San Francisco will never be just San Francisco_ _  
_ _A kiss will never be just a kiss_

 _The golden gate bridge now a reminder_ _  
_ _Of someone that I miss_

  
_How has a place become a person_  
_A moment become a memory_  
_San Fran is a girl with Auburn hair_  
_Who won't smile back at me_

 

When the last note fades out there is a pregnant pause within the room, before Devon starts to clap, and everyone else follows suit. Tessa looks up at him, gives him a bashful, appreciative smile. It’s all she can do to stop herself from looking at Mariah, because she knows what she will see if she does. Knows that the moment their eyes connect, sparks will fly, live on air for everyone to see.

 

What surprises her is that she has been managed to, temporarily, silence Hillary. The host clears her throat.

 

“Wow, Tessa, I have to say, this is quite different from your last hit. Now, I know that your last song was inspired by your sister. Do you want to tell us about the inspiration behind this song? What is it about?” she asks, clasping her hands and leaning in. Her pointed tone tells Tessa that she didn’t need much time to put the pieces together. Tessa clears her throat, keeps her line of vision trained on Hillary, though it’s hard to block out Mariah on the edge of her line of vision. Mariah looking at her expectantly, nervously. Suddenly the spot light feels like a heat lamp.

 

“Uhm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> Better by SYML is my Tessa POV song, just, all of the lyrics.... I'm like yes, this is my Tessa headspace. 
> 
> For anyone interested in some of my current Teriah songs (songs that help me get into either of their POV or I just think feel applicable to them), I have a small (growing) youtube playlist. Although not sure that my music taste is everyones so.... haha 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg59mijrUJue7DBXwT3mjhyOQ6TuT7Yxv


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